


In their time of

by citrusjava



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, BAMF Castiel, Canonical Character Death Only, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusjava/pseuds/citrusjava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is not himself, but then again, neither is Dean.<br/>A different look at the opening teaser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In their time of

Dean wakes up to pain and a dark warehouse ceiling. Not for the first time. His arm is twisted so far, he thinks blurrily, that if he could move it he'd finally be able to touch his own elbow. Sam would be so jealous. But he can't lean on anything. The floor is slippery, gooey stuff clotting under his fingernails.

Then there's movement – tan overcoat, his angel, it's Cas. "Cas, over here", he tries, but he can't make words well, can't even lift his arm – not even the normal one. But it's OK, it's fine, Cas is here. Dean allows himself to bask in the relief pooling around him warm on the linoleum floor.

Cas is fighting something to get to Dean, Dean can't see. He hears begging – his own voice. Wants to warn Cas – that's not really him! But it's OK, Cas is smarter than that, kills the shapeshifter or whatever it is without hesitation.

The body falls heavily across Dean's field of vision. And Cas is coming for him.

No, he doesn't go for Dean yet, there must other monsters coming. Cas is walking away, strong, determined strides. The shapeshifter's body in Dean's vision is badly mangled, calf bone breaking thought skin and fabric. Cas must have been pretty angry with him, Dean thinks fondly.

It takes Dean's stuttering mind a moment to get - the shapeshifter's skin is all wrong, it isn't peeling like it should. And the wounds are slowly dripping red, no black ooze. Must be a demon possession, Dean concludes, logically. He wishes he could remember further back. The memories will come back once Cas fixes him, but he sure could use them now.

He hears himself saying "Cas, what's going on?", sounding bewildered and in pain. For a moment he thinks he managed to speak, but Cas is stepping over Dean, sound of rough contact behind Dean's legs.

There's a crack of bones and a choked, pained breath. Is Cas OK?

Dean's voice says – "Cas, wait, it's really me, don't-".

Cas doesn't believe him.

The next Dean doesn't beg, doesn't try to stop Cas. He flails in Cas' grip, limbs jerking like he's still growing into them, slipping on the floor. Breathes a wet breath through stained lips, looking up at Cas. Places his palm on Cas' chest, and Dean hopes the real him never looks as cracked open as this guy.

Cas pauses, gives the Dean shaped thing in his hands one of the looks that belongs to Dean, the real one. Like Cas is eternally bewildered by him. "Dean", Cas says, and his voice is rough with so many emotions Dean is having trouble placing, hand moving up Dean's face. Then he twists, sharp, and the thing slumps to the floor.

The next Dean-shaped-thing is saying – "Cas, please. Cas. Something is wrong, this isn't you, this isn't-". And Dean has to admit, he might be right. 

It takes Dean maybe ten more Deans to get it. He's killing Dean, over and over again. How much would you have to hate someone to need to kill him so many times?

Dean should have seen Cas was feeling like this. Should have managed to drag Cas out of Purgatory, tied and gagged if necessary. Should have managed to save him. Should have told him. If you're gonna punish yourself, you do it yourself. You don't throw yourself into some celestial punishment you imagine some deity thought up just for you. You're on your own. 

Perhaps he doesn't want his memories back. 

Perhaps the monster-Deans would go to purgatory now, roam land in a ruthless pack of sexy hunters. He almost smirks at the things they would do.

But now Cas is killing Deans. Cas is killing Deans, and Dean knows his own tells, knows when he is lying. And all those Deans –he's pretty sure they really think they're real. If they're all sort of Dean, will they all be put in the same heaven? He's not so sure he'd want to spend eternity with himself, let alone so many of himself.

The flaily Dean, who looked at Cas that way Dean doesn't want to remember, is moving. Short breaths he can't complete, and Dean can't imagine why he hasn't passed out yet. But that sort of thing is all over the warehouse, and Dean can't bother with it at the moment. That Dean can take the pain, there are more important things to deal with, urgent things.

Dean looks around, mostly moving his eyes. He needs to change the game. Perhaps he could get some of the Deans together and fight, escape. Or he could help one of the next Deans stop Cas. At least long enough for any of them to figure out what's happening. But the Deans come one by one, and though Cas might be getting tired, he is also getting more determined. And Dean has to recognize that he can barely move, probably only still alive due to an oversight.

Would other Deans take care of Sam, if Dean doesn't make it? Sam needs him now. He is not OK. Cas knows – the memory of his prayer to Cas is too much, too much to think about, when Cas is so far away from anywhere Dean would ever have imagined. 

Dean hopes other Deans will be there for Sam. Probably would. If they're anything like the real Dean, they probably feel the same worry and ache as Dean feels -

The realization explodes in his chest with pain and relief. He is not Dean, not the real one. There is another Dean out there, one who stands a chance of stopping this. To figure out what's happening with Cas before - Dean doesn't know before what, but it can't be good.  
Dean wants to –

He grabs for Cas' leg as Cas passes, and Cas startles, bends down to Dean, clinging to ruthless irritation.

"Cas", Dean says, more croak than word.

Cas looks at him, lips soft, like he wants to take Dean in, like he could hide his face in Dean's chest and cry. Dean wants to pat Cas' back and make it all better. To figure out that thing inside of him and fix it. Mortifying things Dean would never say, would never allow himself to think.

But he is not really Dean. Almost for sure. He is not Dean, so he can just do whatever he fucking wants.

Cas moves two fingers towards Dean's forehead, with great effort. Stops before he could touch. Zones in and out, internal struggle.

Dean bullies his less twisted arm into lifting, just a little. Managed tolput it on Cas' face, leans it on Cas' jaw, and the corner of Cas' lips is just as soft as he'd thought it would be. Annoying, to be - Dean could just – if he could move or Cas just moved -

Cas' eyes widen, shocked, blessed, then suspicious. He leans in slowly, like he's dropping, floating, breath coming out of him warm, deflating. So close to Dean -

This is not helping his struggle. Cas closes his eyes, concentrating, but that – but it isn't –

Cas pulls away from Deans hand and looks at it, long and wry. Then, wild and jerky, he moves his own hand away from Dean's forehead.

"You're not really him", he says. Explaining, hoping for forgiveness.

Then everything stops.


End file.
